


Armor of a King

by bioticsandheadshots



Series: Fictober: 2018 [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Banter, Drabble, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 16:12:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16201040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticsandheadshots/pseuds/bioticsandheadshots
Summary: Alistair stresses about his new armor and Zevran tries, unsuccessfully, to reassure him.





	Armor of a King

**Author's Note:**

> For the Fictober prompt "How can I trust you?"

“It’s…shiny. You don’t think it’s _too_ shiny, do you?”

Zevran leans against the open door frame, relaxed and composed in a way Alistair could never pull off (though he tries, sometimes, alone in his room). “You, Alistair my friend, have grown far too accustomed to darkspawn entrails. You are to be king now, yes?”

“Well, yes. I suppose , but…” Alistair draws the word out, wrinkling his nose at the near mirror-like polish of his royal armor.

“But nothing. Kings are meant to be impressive.”

“Oh and I suppose impressive means shiny then?” Alistair says with a huff.

Zevran chuckles. “That is the idea.”

“How can I trust you? You’re an assassin! What would you know about royal finery?” Alistair turns and crosses his arms over his chest, frowning at the hollow clank. “Agh! Now I’ve gone and probably scuffed it. They’ll all laugh at the bastard prince in scuffed armor. Though I guess that _is_ better than going out in my small clothes.”

Used to such rambles, Zevran waits until Alistair’s words trail off. “Now, what was the question? How you can trust me? I told you, my friend, assassination is an important role in Antivan politics. I have seen many kings and queens and royal bastards and they all sparkle like the sun. It is quite convenient.”

“Convenient how?” Alistair’s brows knit together; after but a second, his eyes go wide. “Oh! You mean…they stand out, so you can see them, and then kill them! Oh, wouldn’t that be just great? Survive demons and darkspawn and slaying the archdemon, all to be assassinated at my coronation.”

“Ah, but that is why you have me, is it not? Your own personal assassin.”

Alistair cocks his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Remind me again when I hired you?”

“Come now, my friend,” Zevran says, skirting around the question. “We must not keep your subjects waiting.”


End file.
